


JohnLock Songfics

by MidnightMinx90



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMinx90/pseuds/MidnightMinx90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of JohnLock-centered song!fics. Spoilers for Reichenbach Falls</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Had the Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Song is Never Had the Courage by Chase Coy

Sherlock Holmes sat in the flat he had once shared with John Watson.   
He had been gone, dead, for three years, and had finally made his return. He had never thought three years could be that hard and agonizing; never thought he would ever miss a person that much.  
Sherlock had been told he had no heart, and until he saw John heartbroken, standing by his fake tomb, he had believed it to be so. Now he knew the truth.   
Sherlock Holmes has a heart, and when he left, he left it with John at 221b Baker Street.   
He had barely had the time to feel the weight of it before he let it go. 

He had still felt it though; he missed John so dearly he did not know what to do with these new feelings.   
Because no one, not even the best and smartest human being could understand what to do with feelings.

The worst was when he heard song that - without him allowing them too - reminded him of John, of their home, or their time together.  
He gets up from his chair in the flat and turns on the radio.

_I've dialed your number, half a thousand times.  
Hoping just to hear your voice on the other line.  
I never had the courage to finally make that call.  
I've been missing you so much,  
Have you been missing me at all?_

Sherlock's heart skips a beat when the first verse is sung, because it hits right home.   
He'd never tell anyone that he knows the exact number of times he's dialed John's number, without pressing the call-button. But he knows the exact number, of course he does.   
1146 times exactly; once for each day he's been gone.

_I need you here now, more than ever before.  
Cause if you're not by my side, then tell me what is worth living for?  
I never had the courage to tell you how I feel.  
But honestly I've always loved you and I promise I always will._

He was only gone for those 1147 days because he had to, in order to keep those he cared about safe. He did it mostly for John of course, and even though he knew he would finally get to meet him again in the end, it did not feel like it was worth it while he was gone.  
Because he, Sherlock Holmes, felt alone. Not in the way that he did not have anyone to talk to; no, it was because John was not by his side. And what if it failed? What if John died? Would it be worth going on without him then?

Whilst the consulting detective was gone, he had finally admitted - and slowly grown accustomed  to his love for his blogger. It took him a while  96 days to be exact  to discover and get familiar with the new feelings; the hole where his heart should be that was now strangely empty yet filled with warmth. It took him thirteen more days to admit it to himself, and another three weeks to actually say it out loud, to no one in particular. 

_Don't take your time coming home tonight.  
'Cause every second wasted I'm here holding on for life.  
And with every breath I take I pray you're fine.  
That I'm the boy you can't get of your mind._

As Sherlock sits in their flat, he cannot help thinking that he wishes John would just hurry up and get back home from work.  
Hoping he won't stop by the local bar.  
Hoping he won't go home with a new woman again.  
Hoping he won't bring a new woman back to their flat.  
If he doesn't come home soon, Sherlock will turn utterly mad.  
Each breath, each agonizing second, each thumping heartbeat feels like a year.

_I never had the courage to tell you this before,  
But every day away from you just makes me love you more._

He never thought he would ever feel like this, neither for a man nor a woman, but this is John; _his John_. And that is what makes the difference.  
Each day after he realized and admitted to his love for John, he fell more and more in love with him.   
He hopes he's read John's reactions wrong; hopes he won't get rejected.   
Because he knows he will not be able to ignore his love, try as he may.   
No matter what, he will not be able to try and act like it doesn't mean anything to him.  
But he also knows he will not be able to leave John, even if it means he will have to experience long, agonizing, heartbreaking days, months, weeks, years in which John is happy with a woman, or a man for that matter.   
Because he cannot deal with that.

The door downstairs opens, closes and Sherlock hears the footsteps of John climb up the stairs; because of course he still remembers how it sounds.  
But it is different. It is like their first day together; he's limping.  
He begins fidgeting, doesn't quite know how to sit, doesn't know what to say, what to do, and it is so unlike him it makes him even more nervous.  
But there is no going back now, this is it.

The door to their flat opens, and John steps in, alone. He looks haggard, still a broken look in his eyes and he has that military look about him, that shift in him that happened when Sherlock watched him walk away from his fake tomb.  
But as Sherlock watches him, because John has not yet seen him, that official look disappears and is replaced by a hunch, and that change is without doubt one that happens every time he steps into the flat, away from the prying eyes of the world. Mrs. Hudson is probably the only one who's seen him like this. Sherlock is certain not even Mycroft or Lestrade has seen it.  
Sherlock presses the call-button on his phone, after dialing John's number for the 1147th time.

He sees John pick up, not even checking the number, even though Sherlock has kept the same one.   
"'ello?" Sherlock can hear the tiredness in his voice, even though he's trying as best as he can to cover it up.   
"I love you John Watson. I always have loved you and I always will."  
He sees his doctor's eyes open at the familiar voice, and he sees that he notices it comes from a place that is not his phone.  
He sees John turn towards him, hears his phone drop and suddenly a fist connects with his face  John punched him just where he punched him when they were on their way to meet Irene Adler  and suddenly Sherlock's lips are occupied by another pair; a pair driven by desperation, need, anger and want.   
A pair of lips that welcomes his home.

Sherlock's cheeks are wet with tears, and to his surprise they're his own, though they are quickly followed by John's.  
"You have my deepest apologies my dearest John," he whispers against John's lips, but he is silenced by a "shut up and kiss me," from John and he happily obliges.   
They will have time to talk of this later. For now, they will enjoy each other's company.


	2. Broken Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary/John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Broken Vow - Josh Groban (though I guess Lara Fabian's version works just as well/better)

Mary Morstan had been married to John Watson for a little over six months when his behavior changed; he was rarely home anymore, didn't talk to her like he used to and he seemed happy, something she had been trying to make him since the day they met, almost a year after John lost his beloved Sherlock Holmes.   
She was surprised they even slept in the same bed anymore; he seemed to have forgotten he existed.

_Tell me his name  
I want to know  
The way he looks  
And where you go  
I need to see his face  
I need to understand  
Why you and I came to an end_

He'd let the word 'he' slip once, but she suspected it was another woman; he wouldn't be like this if it was Greg, and Mycroft had stopped kidnapping him a long time ago.  
He never told her anything else; not even slipping small clues as that first one. In fact, he seemed to make very certain she did not figure anything out.   
He should be able to tell her thing; share it with her.  
Instead, it just felt like their relationship had come to an end. 

_Tell me again  
I want to hear  
Who broke my faith in all these years  
Who lays with you at night  
While I'm here all alone  
Remembering when I was your own_

He was gone almost every night now, she didn't know where John was staying anymore. She hoped it was just alone, in that old flat of his, but she feared he was off somewhere with another woman, maybe even a new one each night or each week.

He used to pay attention to her; only her, barely noticing any other women apart from Mrs. Hudson whom he still kept in touch with as she felt like an aunt to him.  
She used to be his and his alone.   
Now she was left wondering if there had ever been anyone else apart from her; maybe someone before her who he was now once again in touch with.  
Was he unfaithful to her? Had he been so for years, secretly dreaming and hoping for another woman to come back to him?

_I let you go  
I let you fly  
Why do I keep on asking why  
I let you go  
Now that I found  
A way to keep somehow  
More than a broken vow_

When John had returned the last time  this time when he believed her to be at work  she told him she would accept that he did not want to be with her anymore; that she was willing to let him go free, to let him soar with this other woman who made him so happy.

_Tell me the words I never said  
Show me the tears you never shed  
Give me the touch  
That one you promised to be mine  
Or has it vanished for all time_

"Tell me John," she'd said. "Who is this woman whom you'd so much rather be with than me? Can you even remember that we are married? Do you even care for us anymore?"  
When he hadn't said anything, just stood there, looking at her as though her words didn't register, she'd pushed on.  
"Was it something I said? Something I didn't say?" She'd promised herself to stay strong, but she couldn't hold back the tears.  
"The touch, the one you promised would be mine - and only mine  forever, is it now hers? Is it someone else receiving what you once promised only me?" The tears were now running freely down her cheeks, yet her voice was still strong and collected. John was just staring at her.  
"Do you even know what I am trying to tell you here John? Do you even care enough for me to deny that it is true, that you aren't unfaithful to me?" She doubted he could even hear her, for he seemed so distant. 

 

_I let you go  
I let you fly  
Why do I keep on asking why  
I let you go  
Now that I found  
A way to keep somehow  
More than a broken vow_

"It's over John. We are through." Her voice had broken at that point, and it seemed something was finally dawning in the eyes of her husband.   
"O-over?" She was uncertain as to how much he'd understood at that point.  
"Yes John. The two of us are over, you are free to soar, free to take flight back to the woman you love so much. You can't even bother to deny there is someone else. "  
"Mary" John had looked her in the eyes. "There is no other woman."  
She had slapped him, because even though she'd seen that it was the truth, there was something else in his eyes, hidden beneath.   
Sorrow, caution and happiness were in the eyes of her husband and she hated it.

_I close my eyes  
And dream of you and I  
And then I realize  
There's more to love than only bitterness and lies  
I close my eyes_

In her dreams, Mary dreamt of herself and John; of how happy they had been together, even if John was still haunted by one particular nightmare each and every night. He had refused to talk about it, but she knew enough about him to know it had to do with Sherlock and the fall.  
She blamed Sherlock for John's unhappiness, but she also knew that if it wasn't for him, John would be dead. 

_I'd give away my soul  
To hold you once again  
And never let this promise end_

Still, she loved him so much that if she could hold him in his arms once again and never let him go; never let their promise from the small chapel end, she would give up anything.   
They hadn't even known each other for three years, so maybe she felt not only her own love, but the love that he should have been feeling for her. 

_I let you go  
I let you fly  
Now that I know I'm asking why  
I let you go  
Now that I found  
A way to keep somehow  
More than a broken vow_

John returned to her three weeks later to pick up the rest of his things, and he came with a person by his side; a person she'd hear of, but never expected to meet.  
Sherlock Holmes stood by John, and all the pieces of the puzzle fit together.   
Of course it had to be him, of course Sherlock was the only one able to get John away from her - whether or not he intended so  and Mary cursed herself for ever believing otherwise.


	3. Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Gravity by Sara Bareilles

_Something always brings me back to you  
It never takes too long  
No matter what I say or do  
I still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone_

Sherlock Holmes stood by the grave that was beside his own fake one.   
He visited it frequently, because he could not stand to be back at the flat where Mrs. Hudson was. He could not stand that sad, broken accusing look in her eyes when she saw him.  
It was his fault that his good doctor now was laying six feet under, side by side with nothingness; side by side with what he had thought was Sherlock.

Every time Sherlock stood or sat or just was in the cemetery, he could feel John's presence.  
He was uncertain if it was a good or bad thing, because there was no resentment in that presence; just a feeling of love and home that did not belong in such a place. 

_You hold me without touch  
You keep me without chains  
I never wanted anything so much  
Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain_

He had tried to not to come back.  
But he felt like he was called back by that presence; like he could not be himself if he went somewhere else for too long.  
He felt like he was chained to that place; held by that presence.  
Whenever he needed to think, to be alone, to think through the leads on a case or simply relax, he came back here and talked to John.  
It did not feel strange, and Sherlock found himself wondering if John had done the same to him after that time Sherlock had been a witness to John begging, pleading for him not to be dead.

Sherlock had been selfish when he had not let John know he was alive.  
Sherlock had learned too late that John loved him.  
And Sherlock had found out too late that he loved John back.  
All he wanted was for John to be alive.  
All he wanted was for the two of them to be together.

_Set me free, leave me be  
I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity  
Here I am and I stand so tall  
I'm just the way I'm supposed to be  
But you're on to me and all over me_

But no matter how calm and loved Sherlock felt by the grave, he knew it could not go on.  
This was not normal; not healthy.  
But John's gravity was too strong for him to be able let go; to be able to take to the air and soar; he felt forever chained to this grave.

Sherlock stood tall by the grave; giving no outward signs of what was going on inside his mind palace; not letting anyone see how affected he was.

_You loved me 'cause I'm fragile  
When I thought that I was strong  
But you touch me for a little while  
And all my fragile strength is gone_

Sherlock always thought he was strong; but in reality he had been fragile.  
He gave on the appearance of being strong and unaffected, but John knew him for who he really was; _loved_ him for being fragile.  
Because it made him human.  
And wasn't that the thing about him that made him capable of faking his own death; that he was both too strong and too fragile to be able to just walk away and not care if John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade was killed because of him?

John's personality had touched him; had let him be who he was, but not dared to show others.  
John had touched him in the most intimate way possible - without physically touching him  by loving him; and he was a fool for not having noticed it.

_Set me free, leave me be  
I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity  
Here I am and I stand so tall  
I'm just the way I'm supposed to be  
But you're on to me and all over me_

_I live here on my knees  
As I try to make you see  
That you're everything I think I need  
Here on the ground_

_But you're neither friend nor foe  
Though I can't seem to let you go  
The one thing that I still know  
Is that you're keeping me down  
You're keeping me down_

John turned out to be everything Sherlock needed, without neither of them actually realizing that fact.   
He kept him sane, kept him grounded.  
But he was dead.  
John Hamish Watson was dead because of Sherlock, and Sherlock had to let him go; he had to find a way to move on.   
He had died once, and look where that had brought him.  
He would not die again  for real this time  for he had people to apologize to, things to put right; he would not take the easy way out of this.  
Sherlock would live his life without John, because he owed him to live; he owed him to make up for the damage done because it could not be undone.  
John was dead because of him, and he would make sure it was not in vain, no matter what he had to do.

But to be able to do that, he would have to break free from the gravity field that came from John's presence.

_You're on to me, on to me and all over  
Something always brings me back to you  
It never takes too long_

He managed to stay away for six days, nine hours, two minutes and fifty-six seconds.  
Then he was back by the tomb.  
He let out a humorless chuckle.  
Something always brought him back to John.  
It never took him too long to return.


	4. That One Time Sherlock Went Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Life 2: The Unhappy Ending by Stars

_**[Scene one:]** Late at night interior, we find ourselves inside the car  
Our hero has just gone too far, his lover bleeding in the back  
He removes the Lucky from the pack, he knows now that he can't turn back_

_‘What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?’_ Sherlock repeated the mantra to himself over and over again as he drove out of London.  
It had been an experiment. He’d never been injured and had never injured anyone else before doing one.  
So why now? Why John? Why did it have to be John?

Sherlock didn’t even know how he had managed to start the car, nor how he had gotten to where he was now.  
He couldn’t turn back, not now - too late for that.

_**[Cut to:]** The cherry lights in the rearview  
He realizes that he's through  
Whispers, "Darling let's have fun"  
Hits the exit doing 91, drives until he's in the woods  
If he loses them he's gone for good_

He saw the lights from the police cars in the rearview mirror and realized that it’s far too late to do anything about it now.  
It doesn’t matter if he stops or goes on; it’s over for him now.  
He whispers to no one in particular, just needing to hear his own voice.  
The drugs have such a strong hold on him, that he just had to talk; he’s been silent for too long.

They’re out of London now, heading to the cottage in the woods that no one but Mycroft knows about.  
He had planned on bringing John here one day.  
Now he was, but in a sick, twisted way, not how he had imagined it.  
Doubting he’d lose them, he still tried, knowing that if they didn’t find him first, Mycroft would and then they would come to get him.

_Life was supposed to be a film, was supposed to be a thriller, was supposed to end in tears  
But life, could be nothing but a joke, could be nothing but a con  
Where's my unhappy ending gone?  
Life was supposed to be a film, was supposed to be a thriller, was supposed to end in blood  
But life could be nothing but a joke, a sentimental con  
Where's my unhappy ending gone? Where's my unhappy ending gone?_

“Is life a film, John?” Sherlock asked him, not expecting a reply.  
It was the drugs affecting him again, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop it.   
“What if life is a film? Are we all just actors who play out our part, not having the authority to change fate?” Sherlock was rambling now, he could feel himself get closer and closer to being hysteric.

“Then it must be a thriller, as you would call it, right?”  
Sherlock suddenly realized he was crying. He wondered if he had ever done that?  
“A thriller contains blood and tears and fear,” he concluded out loud. “So this must be one.”

_**[Her:]** Here is the part where you save me, here is the scene where you save the day  
Why can't the ending be happy?  
Why must it always resolve this way?_

“Then this must be the part where you try to save me,” was the reply from the backseat.   
Sherlock could barely hear it, and the sound was wet, as the blood now had reached John’s lungs.   
“You know that if this is a thriller, there will be no happy ending right?” He added a few minutes later, as soon as the wet coughing had stopped.

_**[Fade in:]** A cabin in the woods somewhere  
Our hero strokes his lover's hair  
Says "Don't worry love we're almost done"  
Says "I could have really been someone"  
Outside, they surround the house with pistols drawn  
It's a waiting game until dawn  
Sergeant says "He can't go on, we know now that he can't go on..."_

They’ve reached the cottage, and Sherlock carries John inside.   
Shaking, he puts him down on the couch and leans down to stroke his hair, soothing him, telling him they’re almost done now.  
To himself, he admits he really could have been someone.

Outside, he hears the sound of weapons being drawn and loaded.  
Sherlock hears Lestrade’s voice, hears that he knows it’s soon over and that he knows Sherlock can’t go on.  
Even if Sherlock had been able to escape, they both know he wouldn’t have a life after that.  
Mycroft would be on constant lookout for him, and even if he managed to hide from him, he wouldn’t have survived long.  
The fact that he had survived for three years without John had been a miracle, for Sherlock was rubbish when it came to taking care of himself.

No, Sherlock wouldn’t survive for long without John. He would either die of hunger or an overdose because of the loneliness. 

_Life was supposed to be a film, was supposed to be a thriller  
Was supposed to end in fire  
But life turns out it's nothing but a dream  
And that I'll miss it when it's gone  
I want the story to go on and on but it can't go on..._

In the hour right before dawn, the cottage went up in flames.   
It was so sudden, with no warning at all.   
Lestrade understood that Sherlock must have done it, and that meant John’s life had ended.  
So he did the only thing he could do; he had someone phone the fire-fighters and then he called Mycroft.  
Lestrade suspected his boyfriend already knew, but he had to tell him, he owed him that.  
“They’re gone.”


End file.
